Coping with Grief: Day 5 - Slumber Breaks

It seems 3:10 AM is my new rise and shine time. Like clockwork, my water-winged lids crack open before dawn. Like clockwork, Alexa pronounces the time. Like clockwork, my day starts too early with panicked realism Gaga is gone. Mornings are the most difficult.

When I was a kid my dad would sing this goofy song to prod me out of bed for swim practice:

“Good morning, merry sunshine, How did you wake so soon? You've scared the little stars away, And shone away the moon...…”

For years my adult welcome-the-morning riff of those lyrics were sung by two or more enthusiastically chirping canines. Lady Gaga always sensed my daybreak stirring before I left the Land of Nod. She’d frantically breakout in song, mimicking a primate’s banana-loving squeals. Her infectious vocals signaled Elvis to join the operatic rhythm. It used to drive me batty! I’m not proud of the fact that on one or more occasions I returned their ear-piercing crescendo with a fervent “STFU!” I’ll let you Google that acronym.

Why is it that what drove you bonkers before is the thing you miss the most when your loved one dies? All I wanted when Gaga was alive was one morning when it didn’t sound like I was waking-up at the zoo. Now the silence sings a depressive echo, a reminder of the energy vortex her absence leaves behind.

No matter how hard I try, I can’t coax Elvis to shake, rattle and roll his vocal cords; if only the cat would bark. So, I chat with my AI spouse Alexa to help break the silence. Mornings are eery; they are drunken in gray-soaked drear. But, at least each new morning reminds us all we’ve survived another day in the valley of grief.

But soft, what bark through yonder slumber breaks? It is the east, and Gaga is the sun.....